


Flowers in Bloom

by Fleurete



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Overbearing Parents, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurete/pseuds/Fleurete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alisha is a princess living a life of luxury in her family’s mansion. Rose is the girl who trips and lands on her one day like a falling star, except not quite as painful but just as bright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> No SorMik? gasps

The sun burns hot on the back of Alisha’s bare neck as she flips through the book in her hand. Behind her, the open doors of the balcony rattle in the breeze. It is a slight sound, but it is enough for her to sigh and get up from her desk to shut the doors.

_It is my first free day in two weeks_ , she thinks, _and I have done nothing but mope around all day._ She sets the latch and gazes out at the sprawling mansion grounds beneath her. Her concentration leaves her after a few seconds for even this task and she walks across the room to sit down on the edge of her bed, paying careful attention not to wrinkle the covers.

After many cramped days filled with gruelling martial arts practice, extensive lessons on the War of 1812 and the factor theorem, hours of public speaking classes, several taxing experiences of trying to ride a horse that Alisha swears up and down just does not like her, and countless rehearsals of a piano sonata she still does not have down quite right, Alisha found herself quietly wishing for a reprieve.

And now, on a day with nothing planned, her own idleness bothers her. She rolls her shoulders back as she heaves another sigh. The aching in her muscles from all her classes has lessened now to a dull soreness that she has come to like. Even though she does not seem to be getting any better at fighting or horseback riding or instrument playing, the pain in her muscles is a physical reminder for herself that she is trying.

Her eyes widen as she feels a metaphorical light bulb go off over her head. She stands up and leaves her room, shutting the heavy double doors behind her. The marble floor is cold and she hurries downstairs. It still takes ten minutes to reach her courtyard.

They had moved into this estate when Alisha was still a small child. There were many residences that belonged to the royal family, some of which were devoid of human life yet underwent regular maintenance. Nobody would have batted an eye if (albeit distant) members of the family moved into these empty mansions. But Alisha’s mother had insisted on living somewhere that was distinctly their own and not “burdened by the ghosts of their ancestors” (her mother had an eye for the dramatic). Personally, Alisha thought all excessively large houses were more similar than not.

Still, this place was home.

Her courtyard added to that feeling. Even though she still got lost in some remote wings of the mansion, the little enclosed gardens and soaring fountain were a world that belonged to her. No rooms in the house looked out onto it except hers, and its only entrance was also the exit. Aside from Alisha, only her parents and the gardener were allowed to step foot onto the stone tile of her courtyard.

She pushes open the bars of the arched doorway and her eyes close as the scent of roses drifts her way. Yes, she could spend the afternoon here.

Alisha has been coming here for almost her entire life and knows it like the back of her hand, yet she always manages to find something new each time she comes. Today it is the crimson tulips beginning to bloom at the base of one of the columns. She wonders if she will keep peeling back the layers of her courtyard until she has found all there is to find, or if it will still be unfurling when she dies.

After feeding the fish lazing about in the water, she sits down on a wooden bench out in the sun with the large fountain eclipsing her view of the gate. She leans her head back, enjoying the heat of the sun on her face.

She supposes she must have fallen asleep, because next thing she knows a falling tangle of limbs landing in her lap startles her awake. A shout of surprise escapes her as she bolts up from the bench and sends the thing tumbling to the floor. Alisha’s lips open to say something like _Who are you?_ or _What are you doing?_ but before she can do anything the intruder moves like lightning to clamp her hand over Alisha’s mouth, her grip not painful but not gentle either. Alisha makes to throw the person’s hand off her but realizes that the intruder has also grabbed both her wrists.

“You okay?”

It takes a second to process the question, and Alisha’s brows knit together because she isn’t the one who seemingly fell from the sky. She nods anyway and warily eyes the person trapping her. They are both around the same height, and Alisha assumes they are also around the same age. From this close, Alisha can see her face reflected in the stranger’s blue eyes. She notices a couple leaves stuck in the girl’s red hair and suppresses a laugh.

The girl seems to notice, because she looks at Alisha strangely before she continues speaking. “Don’t panic or yell or anything like that, okay?”

Alisha tries to say “Fine!” but it comes out more like “Mmpf!” She wrestles her arms free and throws off the hand covering her mouth. “How did you get in here?”

The girl puts her hands behind her head and looks skyward. “The roof. I came across a bird’s nest and the mother started coming after me. She almost pecked my eyes out until I tripped and fell. Damn birds.” Her mouth is twisted into a pout and the whole thing is so outlandish—the girl, the leaves in her hair, her fist raised to the heavens as if in moral outrage, killer birds—that Alisha starts giggling, a helpless kind of laughter that bubbles over and leaves her gasping for air and clutching her stomach.

Her laughter begins to subside as the girl tentatively lays a hand on Alisha’s shoulder. “Uh… are you alright? I didn’t hit you _too_ hard, did I?” Alisha looks up and sees a broad grin on the girl’s face.

Alisha shakes her head and responds, “No, you didn’t hurt me. I was just surprised. Who _are_ you?”

The stranger’s hand closes into a fist and she points at herself with her thumb. “I—“ Her open mouth clamps immediately shut as another voice floats in through the gate, coming progressively closer. Alisha turns to listen. “Alisha, darling? We’re back! Sadly we’ll have to leave again tomorrow, but you don’t mind, right dear?”

Alisha fights down a sigh as she says, “No, mother.”

“Good. Come join us for some great cheeses we picked up.”

“Yes, mother.” Alisha turns around again but stops short when the girl is nowhere in sight. She is not behind any of the pillars or crouched in any of the bushes, but gone like a puff of smoke.

-

Alisha does not tell anyone about her strange encounter.

She knows she should. She has thought of several reasons for a stranger to be crawling around on the rooftop (Theft? Vandalism? … Murder?), all of which leave her feeling queasy.

Still, when her mother and father ask her about her day during dinner after the girl’s arrival and disappearance, Alisha does not say, “Someone fell off the rooftop and landed on me.” Instead, she says, “Great.”

Even now a few days later, she does not know why she said that. _Different_ would have been more appropriate. _Well_ , she thinks, _they aren’t mutually exclusive._

The closest she comes to telling is during her combat lessons the day after with Lady Maltran (Maltran isn’t really a Lady, at least in the technical sense of the word. Alisha called her a Lady the first time they met because the woman was so grand and imposing, and the term stuck). The words were on the tip of Alisha’s tongue, because she had been kept up all night by thoughts of what she should do. She was sure Lady Maltran could help her like she always did, but then Maltran knocked her down and said her usual “You need to do better than this. I won’t always be here to guide you,” and suddenly Alisha changed her mind and decided on a different course of action.

Yes. She could do this on her own. She could capture the girl and interrogate her. Then she could choose whether to involve others or not.

A problem immediately presented itself the day after, as well as the next day and the next—the girl did not show up. Or maybe she did and Alisha wasn’t there. Four days later and with no sign of the stranger, Alisha feels foolish for even assuming that the girl would come back to see someone that she had only spoken to once. As she kneels in front of the fountain in her courtyard and trails her fingers through the water, she guesses that the girl had accomplished whatever it is she came here to do.

Alisha had come here almost right after having dinner with the mansion’s staff. If her parents were not at home and Lady Maltran decided not to stay, Alisha always ate with those in her family’s employ. She preferred to dine with others.

The last light of the day catches on the water’s surface, casting a brilliant ripple of yellow and orange that Alisha runs her hand through. The water is comfortably warm. She stands up as she hears someone clear their throat behind her and say, “Oh? Was the little princess waiting for me?”

Alisha whips around and ignores the mocking tone in the girl’s voice when she asks, “You came back? Why?”

The girl puts a hand on her hip and says, “I thought I’d drop by for a visit.” She looks around and whistles. “This is probably more flowers than I’ve seen in my entire life.”

The sound of birds chirping overhead fills the air. Alisha walks up to her until they are only a couple feet apart. “Why did you come here the first time? Why were you on the roof?”

“Well, isn’t someone just full of questions today? If you haven’t noticed, I can’t waltz in through the front door. The ivy provides easy access to the roof, and voilà! Here I am.” _She looks pleased with herself_ , Alisha notes.

Alisha holds her hands behind her back and does her best to generally look commanding. _Just like Lady Maltran_. “You obviously did not want anybody to know you were here. If you came here to steal something, I _will_ find out. And if it is something worse than that… you will not leave unpunished.”

The girl blinks once, then gives a short laugh. “Relax. Give your tough girl act a rest. I came here to drop off some of the cheese that one of your servants always drives to town to get. Nobody could go to the shop, so I came here. And then apparently your cook lost something that flew up onto the roof, and I went up to get it.” She shrugs and presses on, “Look, I’m really not here for that kind of thing. I just thought we needed a proper introduction.”

Alisha relaxes her stance and asks, “The cheeses my mother was talking about were from you? Why did you disappear like that?”

“I was told not to come in here, that this”—she gestures toward the fountain and everything else—“was all prohibited. I can’t see why. You could probably charge an entrance fee or something, it’s like a conservatory.”

Alisha neglects to tell her that there is an actual conservatory at the other end of the house and instead bows deeply. She can feel the heat rising up her neck when she says, “I-I apologize for my rudeness. I should not have assumed.” Looking up, she sees the girl has crossed her arms and pressed her lips together into a thin line.

“You don’t have to apologize. Look, I should have explained everything in the first place.” She uncrosses her arms and holds out a hand. “Let’s start over. Name’s Rose.”

Alisha takes the hand in her own and says, “I’m Alisha.

-

They meet each week after that.

It has been a month since then, and she still finds it difficult to talk to Rose. Alisha has never really been with anyone her age—all her human contact outside of her parents and Maltran boils down to the older employees of the mansion, her tutors, and her elderly and stuffy relatives she rarely sees. Overall, she feels ill-equipped when it comes to speaking to her peers.

But she likes that Rose provides a break in her usual routine, that she has someone she can speak to who doesn’t really know her at all. Because as much as she loves Lady Maltran, Maltran isn’t exactly a friend.

The chiming of the grandfather clock next to her vanity signals the turn of the hour. She had just gotten back from her fourth martial arts lesson of the week and hurried to shower and change into something not drenched in sweat. She rushes to finish curling her hair and is smoothing out her sundress as a knock sounds on her door before her father pokes his head in.

“Have you taken anything from my study, sweetheart?”

“No, father.” Alisha almost never goes to the wing of the mansion containing her father’s study; she finds it eerily quiet.

“Alright. Make sure to tell me if you see any of my things lying around.” With that, he withdraws his head and shuts the door behind him. Alisha waits until his footsteps fade before she closes the curtains to the window overlooking her courtyard and heads downstairs.

Rose is already there when Alisha arrives. When Alisha steps through the gate, she sees a head of red hair crouching in front of a bush populated with deep pink flowers. She walks over and kneels down next to Rose, the hem of her dress touching the soil. The dirt is not as cold as the marble of her house and is much more comfortable.

Rose doesn’t turn her head or give any other sign of acknowledgement of Alisha’s presence. Instead, she asks, “Do you know what these flowers are? I see them everywhere.”

A bee resting on one of the flowers flies off with a small buzz as Alisha reaches out to gently touch a petal. “ _Paeonia officinalis_ , or the common peony. The root has often been used for medicinal purposes.”

Alisha is almost sent falling forward into the bush as Rose claps her on the back. “You sure do know your stuff. I can’t even tell the difference between sunflowers and daisies!”

Rose gets up and sits on the edge of the fountain and Alisha follows suit, brushing the soil off her knees as she goes. “R—really? But they look so different.”

“They’re all just one huge colorful blur to me. One huge blur that makes my nose itch.” She puts her arms behind her head in a gesture that Alisha is now strangely familiar with and stretches out her suntanned legs. “D’you think Bubbles, Sushi, Balthazar, and Sir Spottington III would be upset if I crashed their place?”

Alisha cocks her head to the side and wonders if she misheard. “I—sorry, what? Whose place?”

Rose fans herself with one hand in a poor attempt to cool herself off. In the hot sun, her hair looks like the shade of the bright red wine Alisha’s mother likes to drink. “Your little fish friends that are almost definitely cooler than we are right now. Damn it!” She turns over so that she is facing the fountain with her arms resting against the edge. “Come on Sushi, you wouldn’t mind, would you? Let me in and I won’t turn you into a delicious maki roll.”

Alisha covers her hand with her mouth to hide her giggling. She then notices the red marks on Rose’s palms as Rose lays a hand palm up into the water. “Rose. Why do you insist on climbing my house every time you visit? The front door has to be easier.”

She earns a shrug as an answer. “Sure, but it’s less fun.” Alisha opens her mouth to respond but Rose doesn’t notice and continues speaking. “So how’s our little princess doing? Keeping up with all your duties?”

One of the fish swims dangerously close to Rose’s hand and Alisha fears for its life. “Yes. At least… I think I am. It’s tiring, and sometimes I wish I could use the time spent on things like violin lessons on studying politics or getting better at sparring instead, but—“

“Why don’t you quit then? You don’t have to do things you don’t like doing.” Both of Rose’s hands are dunked inside the water to keep cool. _You make it sound like the easiest thing in the world_ , Alisha thinks.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just… want to do so much more than play the same piece a thousand times or learn how to do something that I’ll never use, like ride a horse.” Alisha is sure the heat isn’t the only reason her face is red—she has never voiced these concerns to anyone, not even Lady Maltran. Something about Rose makes Alisha feel the need to be completely honest.

Rose lays a hand on the edge of the fountain, causing water to seep into the stone. “So you’re still doing things you don’t want to be doing. Just peace out”—here she makes a rude gesture with her hand— “during your next piano lesson or whatever. Although on second thought, your stuffy old teacher might have a heart attack.”

Alisha giggles and explains, “She’s actually only a few years older than us. My mother thought it would be a good idea.” Her smile lessens and she starts fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “She—my mother—thinks that riding horses and singing and things like that are what makes a princess. Because I will never inherit the throne, she hopes I will stand out thanks to my imagined superiority in dancing or piano playing.” She laughs a bitter laugh that she has never before heard from herself before continuing. “She doesn’t realize there are so many more things to do.” Alisha’s eyes widen in embarrassment as she realizes what she’s said, and stammers, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you listen to all that. Please, forgive me.”

Rose is still for a few seconds and then grins, her smile pulling at the corners of her eyes. “ _That’s_ it! Let it all out. You don’t need to be sorry for being honest, and for wanting something your mother or whoever else doesn’t want for you.”

A blush creeps into Alisha’s face that she hides by bowing her head. She smiles at the ground near her feet. _How can she be so straightforward?_

They sit in silence for a few minutes after that, Rose still playing with the water and Alisha turning things over in her head. She blurts out, “How about you?”

Rose’s hand pauses in the water for a moment before resuming its movement. “What about me?”

“What’s your family like?”

Alisha watches Rose give a short laugh, her mouth twisted. “What family? Unless you mean the one that died. In that case, I bet they’re doing swell, not having to worry about me anymore. They probably don’t even need money, wherever they are. If they do, well, I guess they’re still outta luck.”

Alisha’s brows furrow as she says, “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive, I apol—“ She is cut off by a groan from Rose who looks up at her with her usual smile. It is like Rose never said anything in the first place, or like the Rose with her twisted mouth and caustic tone never existed.

“Stop apologizing! Now get in the pool with me.”

“Pool?” Alisha looks around, for a moment forgetting that there is no pool in her courtyard. “What do you mean?”

She barely has time to think before Rose straightens and softly pushes Alisha backward with enough force to send her falling into the fountain. The water quickly soaks through her dress (she is glad she isn’t wearing white) and brings her some relief from the summer sun. Rose is doubled over in laughter and so does not have time to react before Alisha grabs Rose’s wrist and pulls her in beside her. They stay there, in helpless fits of laughter, until Rose leaves and Alisha heads to her room in her dripping clothes, leaving behind wet footprints on the polished marble of her house.

-

“Pass the sauce, will you dear?”

Alisha picks up the bowl and hands it to her father, who takes it and starts spooning large heaps of it onto his plate.

It is her parents’ first free night in a while, so they decided to have dinner in one of the smaller rooms meant to entertain a few guests and in which they have the occasional, more intimate meal without a dozen servers looming over them. There is only one server in the room with them, which Alisha has always thought as more than enough. Even though the glass chandelier above them and the gold-lined porcelain plates on the table are meant to be less elaborate than the furnishings in the more public areas of the mansion, they still cost a small fortune.

Her mother takes a sip from her glass and asks Alisha, “You haven’t been trying on my jewelry, have you?” Alisha is chewing through a mouthful of cheese stuffed lamb, so she shakes her head. She finds her mother’s accessories to be much too gaudy. Her mother gives a small hum and does not say more on the matter.

Even though her parents insist on eating together whenever they can, they rarely make conversation. Alisha always tried to coax more out of them as a child, but has since stopped.

She sees her mother preparing to speak again and Alisha returns her fork, on its way to her mouth, back onto her plate. A few seconds later, she wishes she hadn’t.

“So, dear, have you learned how to play that sonata yet? It’s already been a long while. I hear Mr. Williams is beginning to get quite exasperated with you.” Her words are laced with honey, but they burrow under Alisha’s skin.

“Ah, not yet.” Alisha clears her throat. “I haven’t been practicing very much lately.” _Or at all._

Her mother picks up her wine glass and takes a gulp before speaking. “What else could you possibly be doing? Make sure you sit down at that piano first thing tomorrow morning until you get it right.”

They have had these talks for as long as Alisha can remember, and they have always ended with a variation of “I’ll be sure to, mother,” or “Yes, I’m sure I can conquer my absolute disinterest and lack of talent in order to master this absolutely inane routine or piece.” To Alisha, they both mean the same thing.

Alisha’s eyes catch the red wine swirling in her mother’s glass. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.

_You don’t have to be sorry._

She opens her eyes and sees her mother waiting and expectant, with her gaze trained on Alisha. Alisha meets it with her own.

“I haven’t been practicing because I don’t want to ride horses or learn the violin or any of those things that you’ve made me do.” The server brings out the dessert and this reminder of the presence of bystanders almost startles her into halting her words. She presses on, still maintaining eye contact. “I want to learn better combat techniques. I want to know about our political affairs. I don’t want to only be a freaking princess.” Her eyes widen as her speech reaches her own ears. _When have I ever said “freaking?”_

Alisha winces at the sound of her mother’s knife slicing through her mille-feuille and scratching at the plate underneath, with precise movements ready to kill. “You are a _princess._ A princess that will not be Queen. You are neither a soldier nor a politician.” Her voice is iced over, even in the heat of summer. “You have no business with things that are none of your concern. Leave the burden of war and leadership to those who will actually rule.”

“But I—“

“You will immediately cease all lessons with Miss Maltran. Starting tomorrow you are to attend only the classes that I have given the okay for. Understood?”

Alisha’s father places a hand on his wife’s arm, to no avail. Alisha feels ten again, small in front of her mother and despite everything, wanting to please. Words flutter in her stomach and itch to escape her throat ( _I want to do more,_ _even if I don’t need to_ ), but she averts her eyes and speaks two words.

“Yes, mother.”

-

Two days later, Rose comes to see her.

After the dinner, Alisha had finished her food as quickly as she could and headed to her room. As soon as she closed the door, the tears prickling behind her eyes came hot and fast. She did not allow herself to cry for more than a few minutes, after which she rubbed her eyes dry and prepared for bed.

The next day she had to apologize profusely to Lady Maltran for being unable to make her class. She would have attended despite the warning she received, but she was certain her mother had briefed the house’s employees because Alisha never seemed to go anywhere without a gardener or a maid or a footman in close proximity. Her courtyard and her chambers were the only places where she wasn’t under watch.

So she is glad when it is finally the day of the week when Rose usually makes her visits.

They are sitting on the grass square of the courtyard that is surrounded by a shaded stone pathway on all sides, the wall opposite the entrance outfitted with a small alcove that serves as a seat. Their eyes follow a couple butterflies floating around a geranium bush while they discuss the merits of certain animal species.

“Their color doesn’t matter to me—their wings are kind of creepy. The buzzing gets to you too.”

Rose. “Yeah, but—ladybugs? There are way scarier insects out there. Centipedes and their billions of tiny little legs…” She shivers. “Nature went wrong with them somewhere. It’s just not right. And spiders. You can’t tell me spiders don’t scare the shit out of you. If you do, you’re lying.”

Alisha leans back on the grass, the stalks tickling her palms. She knows her white dress will stain terribly but she oddly can’t bring herself to care. “Centipedes are a few million legs short of a billion. And spiders are arachnids, not insects. They’re kind of cute, actually.”

“Whatever. Now I know you’re messing with me. There is nothing cute…” From Alisha’s position, she can only see Rose’s back. While Rose is talking, Alisha places her fingertips of one hand on Rose’s lower back and starts crawling up slowly until she reaches her neck. “…at all about their extremely poisonous and deadly habits. It’s nice to know that you have a death wish, Ali— _gah!_ ” Rose yelps in fright as Alisha’s fingers graze her neck.

Alisha laughs into her palm as Rose deadpans, “Haha, very funny.” Rose looks at her strangely as her giggles subside.

“W-what?”

“You never would’ve done that two months ago. You’re loosening up!”

Alisha looks down at her lap, suddenly interested in the grass stains on her palms. “Really? I haven’t noticed.”

The butterflies are gone by the time Rose asks, “So what’s with the heightened security? You’re a fugitive now?”

Alisha picks at a sunburn on her arm. “You noticed? Well, I confronted my mother about quitting some of my lessons.”

Rose cringes. “Didn’t turn out so well?”

“She demanded that I stop learning about things I’m actually interested in… and I gave my consent.” At the same time that Alisha thinks there was nothing more to be done, she also thinks that if she had just pushed a _little_ bit harder, she might have come out on top.

“You gave in?” There is a hint of something derisive in Rose’s voice, the same underlying current that surfaces when she talks about her family or her past or her home.

Alisha finds herself reacting to that current. _I did give in_ , she thinks, _but you don’t know hard it was._ Out loud, she snaps, “I did! I was a coward, but do you think I had a choice? Do you have any idea about the pressure I was under—“

“No. I don’t.” Rose is quiet, her voice steady and mocking. “I’m sorry, but not all of us can experience the same problems as Diphda’s little princess.” She shoves at Alisha’s shoulder. “If only we could all be so lucky.”

Something ugly and fierce wells up within Alisha. She has argued before (mostly with her mother), but this feels different to her somehow. Suddenly she wants to _hurt_ Rose. She wants to hit her where it hurts the most, and it scares her.

But she also wants to know more. She wants to know more about Rose’s life, about the scar on her leg and that scarf she always wears, even with the heat rolling off the pavement in waves. She wants to know what she’s been through and what she’s going through, and to help, if possible.

She settles on a mix of the two.

“ _Rose!_ Stop, stop treating me like this! I’m trying to understand, I am. But don’t tell me that my hardships are worthless because they’re not the same as yours.”

Rose’s eyes narrow and she makes to shove her again, but Alisha is quicker and catches her arm. They fight back and forth for a few moments before Rose gives it all her strength and pushes Alisha flat on her back. Alisha sees azure sky for a second until Rose’s face fills her entire field of vision.

“You’re right about one thing. We don’t have the same problems.“ Rose’s breath is soft against Alisha’s cheek. “There’s no way in hell you can ever understand what I’ve lived through, or my life now.”

Alisha is finding it harder and harder to think, Rose’s body is so, so close and her hair falling like a curtain around Alisha’s face is clouding her brain but she manages to speak anyway. “I will never understand if you don’t tell me! Please, even if I can’t. I want to try.”

Rose starts talking again, less heated now but still intense. Alisha cannot concentrate because of the _heat_ , the press of Rose’s hand on her wrists, the hair’s width separating their bodies. She need only arch up and—even though Rose has stopped talking Alisha is still looking at her mouth and she thinks she might faint from overheating.

Rose looks uncertain now—probably from the silence—and Alisha wants to wipe that expression off her face.

She raises her head that fraction of an inch and kisses Rose. It is chaste, it lasts only a second, and it is _her first kiss_ —and when Alisha pulls back Rose is left speechless.

Doubt curdles in Alisha’s gut. She has never seen Rose at a loss for words.

The grip on her wrists has loosened, and Alisha takes the chance to throw Rose off of her and run back into her house. She doesn’t look back, and Rose doesn’t call out her name.

-

Five years ago, Alisha had taken to visiting the nearby town with the chef when he needed to buy more ingredients. The mansion, with its endless corridors and familiar faces, was starting to get a bit stale.

When she used to browse broad arrays of spices neatly sorted into plastic containers or shelves of colorful hand-painted wooden toys, she would occasionally feel eyes on her. Looking around, she’d catch the gaze of a boy trying to be covert about staring at her. She’d gotten tired of it after the second time.

Then she was introduced to Maltran.

Alisha had always known she wanted to be skilled in combat, so when she met Maltran—a general decorated with honors—she knew she had to learn from this extraordinary woman. She had to persuade her mother to even think of hiring Maltran, and Alisha still does not think her mother would have caved if it weren’t for Maltran’s help.

Her parents were rarely at home (even more so than now) and so Maltran became something of a mentor, someone that Alisha could trust and rely on.

For the first couple of years after Maltran’s hire, Alisha passed it off as admiration. Then she found herself watching Maltran far too often, or thinking about her before she slept.

Alisha knew she wasn’t in love, but she now also knew why the idea of boys didn’t interest her.

She used to think about dark pink hair against sapphire, until she met Rose.

-

It has been two weeks since The Kiss. (Alisha tries not to think about it, but when she does, it is always as _The Kiss_ ). She tried to ignore the pain in her chest last week as she looked out onto her courtyard only to see no one waiting for her.

_It’s over_ , she thinks.

It is midday and the sun is at its apex. Her mother is supposed to be back later today, so Alisha takes the opportunity to have lunch outside without company. She watches the gardeners in their wide-brimmed hats tending to the flowers and the stoic bodyguards stationed around the grounds.

After finishing her food, she heads to her room. Rose is supposed to visit, but Alisha isn’t expecting anything. If she didn’t come last week, she isn’t going to come today.

Alisha is not used to spending her free afternoons alone. A few months ago she would have gone to her courtyard, but now…

She sighs. _Stop thinking about it._

Light streams in from the window and the balcony doors. She plucks a copy of _The Imperial Roman Army_ from her bookshelf and sits down at her desk to read.

She is about thirty pages in before her mind starts to wander. Despite her best efforts, memories of The Kiss rise like an unpleasant and hard to swallow medicine. _If only I hadn’t kissed her. We would still be talking. I wonder if she’s okay? I wish I knew where she lived. What does she even do when she’s not talking to me? Does she go to school? Does she work somewhere? We’ve known each other for months and I still don’t know so much about her…_ She tries to focus on the pages before her. _I need to concentrate… if it only there wasn’t so much noise…_

Wait, what?

She whips her head around as she hears a loud knocking sound. Her father and the staff always announce their presence, and her mother never even knocks. Who…

“ _Psst, Alisha_! Let me in before someone kicks me out! It took me almost an hour of sneaking around and trying to find the right door. I swear your mother is a nin—“ Before Rose can finish her sentence, Alisha flings open the doors and ushers her inside. Alisha peeks outside to make sure nobody’s in the hallway, then closes the doors. She hears Rose whistle and exclaim, “What a swanky place.”

“Rose? What are you doing here? You got past all the security guards and employees?” They are standing in the middle of her room. Alisha takes note of Rose fidgeting with her hands and the white piece of paper poking out of the pocket of her button-down.

“Yup. It shaved ten years off my life.” She takes a deep breath, then continues. “I wanted to say ‘I’m sorry.’”

This surprises Alisha, who replies in astonishment, “For what? I was the one who kissed you!”

A blush colors Rose’s cheeks. “No, not about that. That part was fine.” Alisha is sure her face is in flames. Rose takes the paper from her pocket and hands it to Alisha. “For this.”

Alisha unfolds the paper. It is a check in her father’s handwriting. Anger rises within her and bleeds into her voice. “You took this? And my mother’s jewelry?” She feels a familiar wetness in her eyes and her hands begin to shake slightly. “So you were just using me? You came back to let me know you were playing me for a fool?” Even though she tries so hard not to, her voice breaks on the last word.

Rose tries to lay a hand on her shoulder but Alisha pushes her away. Rose pulls back but still watches Alisha’s face. Her voice is strained when she speaks. “I wasn’t, well—I was maybe kinda using you in the beginning. I really was sent here that first time, and I really did fall into the garden. The second time I came back to take something… but I also wanted to see you.” She crosses her arms and pauses, as if thinking on her words. “I know it’s no excuse, but I wanted to help out the old lady I’m staying with. She needed help, and she’d already done so much for me. So when I had to come to your place, I thought I found an easy way out. But then we started talking, and I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

She gives a rueful smile, and exhaustion abruptly seeps into Alisha. Alisha still feels traces of anger burning hot under her skin, but these last vestiges are drowned by a sudden wave of fatigue. She sits on her bed as Rose continues speaking. “I took that from your father’s study a while ago. I was waffling for the longest time on whether to use it or not. As we kept talking, my answer was on its way to a definite ‘no.’ So. I came to return it to you.”

Rose takes a deep breath and throws her head back as if to inspect the ceiling, and closes her eyes for a moment. Alisha feels awkward with Rose standing in front of her (it is uncomfortably reminiscent of the audiences she has been forced to attend with her parents), so she pats the bed and gestures for Rose to come sit. Rose does so and continues talking, more softly this time. “I know I’m talking your ear off but I just want to say this all at once.” She smiles at the small curve of the lip this comment draws from Alisha. “That’s not the only thing I’m sorry about. I didn’t mean to be so crabby. I don’t talk about my life often. At all. And you _do_ live a completely life from mine, and I still don’t think you’ll completely understand my problems. But I like that you wanna try. So I’ll tell you everything you wanna know.”

They let the words hang in the air between them for a few minutes. Alisha can feel Rose getting antsier by the second but she continues staring silently at her lap, finding amusement in Rose’s agitation. She has to stifle a laugh when Rose breaks the silence and says loudly, “Look, I know I’m no good at this, but—“

Alisha interrupts. “Rose.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Both of them crack up, the sounds of their laughter drifting out the open window into the courtyard. Relief replaces exhaustion, and Alisha thinks, _It’s okay._

Their laughing winds down and Alisha tells Rose, “Um, if you need money, I can always—“

Rose shakes her head. “I can handle it on my own. There’s been a lot more work cropping up lately—people need their cheese, I guess.”

Alisha turns to look at her and is surprised at how close Rose is—their legs are almost touching. She clears her throat and says, “Ah. That’s great.” She pauses before continuing. “And… thank you. For wanting to tell me.”

Rose scratches the back of her head and gives a cheesy grin. She puts her hands on her knees and leans toward Alisha in earnest. She murmurs, “Another thing. Sorry I didn’t come last week, I was figuring something out.”

Alisha raises her eyebrows and her mouth creases into a concerned frown. “Oh? Is there any way I can help?”

A mischievous shine passes in Rose’s eyes. Still smiling, she places a hand on the back of Alisha’s neck and moves in closer. When she speaks, her voice is a whisper that tickles Alisha’s cheek. “Yeah, there is.”

When they kiss, Rose’s lips feel rough against Alisha’s. Alisha sighs happily after they break apart, and she is pleased to see Rose flushed and very slightly out of breath. She is almost about to move in toward Rose again before the sound of someone clearing their throat makes them jump apart.

In the doorway stands her mother, expressionless and still.

-

“Can anyone tell me the meaning of this?”

Right after The Incident That Shall Not Be Named (always capitalized), Rose and Alisha had been dragged into one of her mother’s private rooms that were intended mainly for the entertainment of close friends and seated in armchairs lined with red velvet throws. Alisha considered it a miracle that they did not encounter anybody on the way.

The two of them do not have an opportunity to answer as Alisha’s mother starts speaking again almost right away in even and clipped tones. “Can any of you explain to me why my daughter has been sneaking around my back to see a girl I have never met before in my entire life? A girl that apparently she knows well enough to canoodle with in her bedroom? Anyone?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Alisha sees Rose smile slightly at the word ‘canoodle.’ To her mother, Alisha tries to speak in a firm voice that comes out shaky instead. “I… I’ve been meeting Rose every week since the beginning of summer.”

Her mother laughs, cold and shrill. The sound makes Alisha shrink back into her chair and cross her arms protectively against her chest. She wants to burrow under the throws she is sitting on and hide from the piercing scrutiny of her mother.

“For three months? Fantastic. First your lessons and now a secret _amour_. What’s next, planning on joining the circus?” She narrows her eyes and speaks slow and deliberate. ‘Why do you insist on disobeying me?”

Alisha does her best to talk with as much conviction as she can muster. “You never would have agreed to allow someone from the town to visit. And I don’t _want_ to disobey you, but”—she has to take a deep breath—“you don’t know what _I_ want! I’m not good at what you want me to do. I want to join the army and I want to help change the country for the better at the same time that I am a princess.” She wonders how she drew the strength to say all this, but her question is answered when she catches Rose’s eyes and the small nod she gives.

Her mother takes a drink from the glass on the cherry wood coffee table. She sets it down with enough force to send water spilling out of the cup onto the dark surface. Her voice is sharpened to a point. “Alisha. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. You are not suited for _politics_ or _battle_ or any of the other flights of fancy you have dreamt up. You have no idea how _hard_ they can be.”

Alisha shoots up from her chair and prepares to say something like _I’ve never even tried_ or _That doesn’t matter to me_ , but Rose beats her to the punch. “So you don’t think she can do it? That she shouldn’t even try?”

Her mother visibly startles, having forgotten about the outsider. She turns toward Rose and blinks. “Excuse me? And who are you?”

“Rose.” She gives nothing else by way of explanation, only her name. Her voice is calm and she stares down Alisha’s mother.

Her mother’s temper seems to have been cooled by Rose’s interruption, as she sighs in frustration and sits heavily in a chair across from Rose and Alisha. “I don’t think that. I know you want—and can—do a lot, Alisha.” She taps a finger rapidly on her leg, then takes the glass and taps a nail against that instead. The sound reminds Alisha of heels clicking on pavement. “I’ve never told you this before, and I didn’t think I would do so with your… _girlfriend_ here…” Both girls turn red, but Alisha’s mother does not mention it. “I worked so hard to move us out here and away from the rest of your family. I didn’t want you getting dragged into things that I have been trying to avoid for my entire life.” The creases in her mother’s face are deeper than Alisha has ever seen them. She has never thought of her mother as _old_ or _weary_ before now.

Rose steps forward and opens her mouth, but closes it again as Alisha shakes her head. Alisha crouches down in front of her mother so that they are eye level. Her voice is quiet but unyielding. “I don’t want the same things you want, mother.”

A sniff. Alisha can’t tell if it’s out of haughtiness or grief. “Yes, I’m coming to see that now.” Her mother closes her eyes and when she opens them again, every trace of vulnerability is wiped. Her back is ramrod straight and her head is held high. “Funny how it took your paramour for me to realize.” Alisha is about to protest ( _Please don’t call her that, mother_ ), but she continues, “It looks like the security team needs a long talking to.” She looks pointedly at Rose. “Alisha, you and Rose are to join your father and I for dinner tonight. I will see you two in three hours.

Rose and Alisha are left behind as her mother sweeps out of the room. They turn toward each other, then laugh, with tears of relief prickling at the corners of Alisha’s eyes.

-

“What’s that one over there?” Alisha asks, pointing at a group of stars in the sky.

Rose looks in the direction of Alisha’s pointing finger. “Lyra, the lyre. Although it looks more like a really deep frying pan to me.”

Alisha giggles, and the sound carries into the night air along with the chirping of crickets. She can feel the grass beneath her scratching her exposed legs.

A week has passed since The Incident That Shall Not Be Named But Wasn’t So Bad Anyway. The day after The Incident, her parents had sat her down and told her she could drop any lessons she did not want to take and that they could make arrangements for whatever she did want to do. She was told that Rose could visit twice a week, but they requested that “she please use the front door instead of treating our house like her own personal rock climbing wall.”

Rose had questioned her. “Did they even ask you how we met?”

They did. And Alisha told them (while leaving out the fact that Rose had taken her mother’s necklace—she only wore it once, so Alisha does not feel too bad). She quietly slipped the check into the bottom drawer of her father’s desk the next day while they were both out.

Alisha is shocked at how well everything turned out. Rose told her not to question it, to be happy with it.

She is, of course.

The sky continues to darken as they lay there on the grass. Everything—the fountain, the flowers, the bench—is softly illuminated by a couple lanterns hung between the columns. In the lamplight, Alisha’s face is warm and her eyelids become heavier. She tries to listen to Rose tell a story about how she was lost for a week and had to use the stars to find her way back (which Alisha thinks is a tall tale because who in their right mind would smile while talking about how they were so starving they had to eat their own shoe?), but her voice just lulls Alisha to sleep even quicker, a sound soothing in its familiarity and proximity.

Suddenly she feels something brush her hair, and she opens her eyes. Rose is lying sideways and resting her head on her elbow, her face soft in the glow of the lanterns. She laughs and says, “It’s time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Your mom will be here any second now.”

Sure enough, the voice of Alisha’s mother floats in through the open gate. “Alisha, dear. Miss Maltran will be here bright and early tomorrow. I won’t have you sleeping in and disrespecting her.” She continues speaking to one of the maids in an idle chatter, and Rose and Alisha listen until the chitchat fades away.

Alisha sits up. Rose gets to her feet and stretches, her arms reaching toward the sky. She grins and says, “Well, I’m beat. Even if we did just lie here like a couple of logs all evening.” She holds out her hand, and Alisha uses it to haul herself up.

Rose places a hand on her hip and looks at Alisha’s face appraisingly. Alisha blushes under the gaze. Rose seems to have come to a conclusion, because she looks satisfied. She vigorously nods her head and says happily, “Lilies suit you,” then leans in and kisses Alisha. With an “I’ll see you next week” and “Don’t miss me too much!” she heads through the gate, the scent of flowers following her.

Alisha can still feel lips on hers, and she reaches up to touch them (she hopes that the warmth in her lips and the fluttering in her stomach will never go away). She remembers the faint touch she experienced earlier and reaches up further to feel a flower tucked into her hair, its petals smooth and cool to the touch.

A small smile blooms across her face. She gets into bed an hour later and places the flower on her bedside table. The window overlooking her courtyard is open, and a light wind caresses her sleeping and still-smiling face.

**Author's Note:**

> This was dreamt up while playing Alisha's DLC, so I borrowed a ton of characterization from that


End file.
